The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
From caves of ice and fields of snow
The breath of night like death did flow
Beneath the sinking moon.
The wintry hedge was black;
The green grass was not seen;
The birds did rest
On the bare thorn’ s breast,
Whose roots, beside the pathway track,
Had bound their folds o’ er many a crack
Which the frost had made between.
Thine eyes glow’ d in the glare
Of the moon’ s dying light;
As a fen-fire’ s beam
On a sluggish stream
Gleams dimly — so the moon shone there,
And it yellow’ d the strings of thy tangled hair,
That shook in the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, beloved;
The wind made thy bosom chill;
The night did shed
On thy dear head
Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie
Where the bitter breath of the naked sky
Might visit thee at will.